Saga of 6Nations

A shadow detached itself from its kind, wavering as it made its way across the floor. In the brightly lit room where shadows were more glaringly obvious than light, the lone shadow flickered its way questioningly into the circle of guards. A vague outline shimmered above the shadow once, and immediately, all guards, trained with years of experience, focused on it and drew their weapons, alert for the slightest sign of danger, prepared to skewer the vague shadow should it make any threatening moves.

Behind them, the lean figure moved with the easy grace of assassins. He had been hiding there, in plain sight, all along; just that he had never been noticed a single time. No one noticed him without his permission.

A hand reached for a pouch hanging at his waist, before realizing that it was holding a sharp, wickedly curved blade. Fumbling for a while before managing to transfer the weapon into the other hand, already holding its twin, the assassin opened the pouch, and scattered a fine, shimmering dust onto the unsuspecting guards. Startled, all the guards immediately turned around, realizing their mistake too late, converging on the lone figure. The effects were immediate. Some tripped over their own legs, some tripped over their own hands, while others fumbled with their weapons before dropping them on others, or ended up shooting themselves. The assassin blurred, appearing at different parts of the room, delivering precise, surgical cuts to his hapless opponents. It was ten weathered, experienced, and highly trained guards against one assassin. Within seconds, all the guards were dead. They had been noobified.